A Little Shopping
by DottieP
Summary: It's the end of the semester for Dr. Lopez, so Quinn decides to have a little celebration and does some shopping.  Same universe as "Office Hours" and "Easy Like Sunday Morning."


**A Little Shopping**

**Summary**: It's the end of the semester for Dr. Lopez, so Quinn decides to have a little celebration and does some shopping. Same universe as "Office Hours" and "Easy Like Sunday Morning."

**Pairing**: Quinn/Santana

**Rating**: NC-17. It's smut (with a little more backstory).

**Disclaimer**: I don't own these characters, yada, yada, yada.

**Author's Note: **I've had this weird suspicion that Santana really, really likes shoes. Maybe it's the gorgeous boots that she's always wearing. As an adult, I see her predilection evolve with income and with having Quinn, who is no stranger to good fashion, as a girlfriend. (Pardon the specific shoe references if that isn't your thing.) Also, I'm quite aware of the similarity between this and "Welcome Home," but that was intentional. I see Quinn as being really creative and as one who enjoys surprising Santana, so I ran with that idea. Consider this a gesture to "Welcome Home."

Quinn practically skipped down Spring Street in SoHo as she headed towards the subway. Her hands were full with shopping bags in each. If she hadn't been there on a specific mission, she would have needed a SUV to get her purchases back to the loft.

She wanted to surprise Santana with a few gifts to celebrate the end of her long semester. Dr. Lopez (Quinn smiled as she thought of that title) was submitting grades today and wrapping up any loose ends, so she'd hopefully be in a good mood and not too exhausted when she got home. Quinn had plans for her, and she needed Santana, well, "alert."

This late April afternoon in New York was a perfect shopping day, and Quinn was rather pleased with herself. She had made two stops in SoHo, and now it was time to head back north for one more brief stop. Shopping made her feel like a teenager again; although, one purchase in hand was not certainly an accessory that she would have had while attending William McKinley High.

###########

Santana arrived home a bit earlier than normal since she did not have to grade any finals or conference with students. She felt relieved and was looking forward to her summer break. (Well, sort of. She had a book to work on and an article to revise for publication, so not an entire summer lounging around the rooftop pool or getting drunk at 11:00 a.m.) As she entered the loft, she was surprised at how quiet it was, until she stopped for a moment and caught the faint sound of music coming from the bedroom. A small half-smile sprung to her face, and she tossed her bag down near the kitchen island and began to follow the sound. However, she was stopped in her tracks by a dry cleaning bag tacked to one of the wooden pillars in the living room. A note was attached. She gently pulled the note off and all it said was "Wear me." Scribbled in smaller letters and in parentheses just below that was "And nothing else. Go to the bathroom."

She grabbed the bag, which only contained a crisp white oxford, and headed for the bathroom as instructed. Santana knew that Quinn enjoyed these little games, and she had to admit that she did, too, if for nothing than to see Quinn happy. Upon reaching their large modern bathroom, Santana found more presents and another note on the marble vanity. She figured that she should comply and stripped down. The oxford was soft and fit her well, even if it was a bit oversized. The next note rested on top of a large shoebox, directly over the label. Santana hesitated because she thought that she recognized the box. _No fucking way. She didn't_. She then slowly picked up the folded note that only had "S" in calligraphy on the front. (Santana acknowledged the calligraphy; it meant Quinn had taken time to do this. This acknowledgement just happened in the back of mind because she was distracted like a kid on Christmas by the shoebox.)

With the note gone, Santana's hunch was confirmed: Prada. Cue the shoegasm. Over a month ago, the couple was casually walking through SoHo and stopped in the boutique. Santana basically dry humped a pair of knee-high boots in the store, and Quinn had to drag her out, still practically drooling.

(Now, Santana wouldn't call her 'thing' with shoes a fetish, per se. She preferred "strong predilection" because "fetish" made it sound like something Lady Heather and Grissom would discuss over tea or at a crime scene. She loved boots, especially—knee-high, ankle, cowboy. Quinn particularly liked Santana in tight jeans, black cowboy boots, and a white tank top. One of the many things that she loved about Quinn was her similar "strong predilection" for footwear; luckily, though, the blonde's taste shifted to heels, which suited Santana just fine. Quinn in heels made her mouth go dry and another place further south get particularly wet. And, Santana enjoyed having her very own version of Carrie Bradshaw—but Santana was confident that Quinn was hotter and _way_ better in bed than Carrie. Not to mention super gay. Lucky Santana.)

She decided to read the note first:

_Hey gorgeous,_

_I assume by now you have the shirt on. And, I also assume that you have discovered the shoebox. Because I know you, I'm sure that you are reading this first before busting into the presents. Thank you for that. _

_But now, I give you permission. Put on what's in the box and what's in the bag and join me in the bedroom._

_All my love,_

_Q._

_P.S. Unbutton some of those top buttons of the shirt and roll up your sleeves._

Santana's smile slowly spread across her face; one might say a Cheshire cat grin. _Oh, this is gonna be good. Well done, Q._

She finally had the green light to open the Prada box, and once she did, she may have actually whimpered when she saw the black calf skin knee-high boots nestled in the box. "Quinn, honey, you have outdone yourself." She delicately took the boots one by one out of the box and put them on. The soft leather hugged her calves and made her deliciously long legs look supple yet strong.

After she relished in the feel of her gift, she turned to the bag. It was a non-descript bag, which made Santana more curious. She reached in and pulled a black leather harness followed by a deep purple curved double dildo. "I take it back; _now_, you've outdone yourself. Fuck." As she inspected the new toy, she tried to recall the last time that they had one. _Oh yeah, a couple of years ago—we broke, well I broke, the harness. Who knows what happened to the dildo_.

Quinn told her to put it on, so she did, releasing a small moan when her end slid into her. The harness fit like a glove and actually matched her boots. _Again, well done, Q_. She adjusted a few small things, trying to rediscover what wearing one of these felt like. She also quickly flashed to what _using_ one of these felt like. A smirk. Now, she was ready.

She drew in a breath that she didn't realize that she needed. Santana shook her head, trying to rid herself of the thought that she might be nervous. Instead, she chalked it up to anticipation of using her new toy….hopefully while still wearing the boots.

Santana knocked softly on the door. She heard a few seconds of rustling and then a husky "Come in." Santana pushed open the door somewhat slowly and immediately had to grab the doorframe to steady herself at the sight before her.

"Oh sweet fucking Jesus," Santana softly hissed. _Hot naked lawyer Quinn? She only busts this out for special occasions_. Quinn stood in front of the bed, naked except for a bright pink tie loosely hanging between two firm breasts, rimless glasses that had slid down her nose, and dangerously sexy black heels. She twirled a pair of shiny metal handcuffs around a finger to finish off the look.

"You like?" Quinn asked, quirking an eyebrow paired with a smirk.

Santana swallowed, not going unnoticed by Quinn who was having her own trouble keeping her composure. "You know I do. Are those new?" Santana inquired, pointing to Quinn's shoes.

With a full smile that lit up her face, Quinn responded, "I did some shopping for me…well, all of this is really for us, but I saw these and thought that you'd like them as much as I do."

As Quinn spoke, all Santana could do was stare. "Where did you…..?" was all Santana could get out of her now dry mouth.

The blonde was enjoying the reaction that she was getting from Santana. _And we haven't even started yet_, Quinn thought to herself. "Jimmy Choo, from the pre-fall collection. They're the Blade design." As she spoke, she half-modeled them for the now-for sure drooling—and very wet—brunette still trembling in the doorway.

Santana's breathing had altered to borderline panting, and she steadied herself before attempting to make her way over to Quinn, who had not lost the smile. As she almost glided over to the blonde, Santana remembered that she had a few surprises of her own, to which she, finally, noticed Quinn was reacting.

A hint of a bulge pushed against the ends of the oxford, and Santana's hard nipples pushed against the front a little higher up. Her thick black hair was dangling over one shoulder, swaying gently as she moved across the short distance to Quinn. Amid now-ragged breathing, Quinn could hear the leather of the incredibly sexy boots move with Santana's every step.

When Santana finally reached her, Quinn tossed the handcuffs on the bed behind her. Santana tugged at the tie and pulled Quinn towards her. No words were needed, just uneven breaths and anticipation. Quinn took another look down and raked her eyes over Santana's entire form. The brunette was finally met with a dazzling yet seductive smile. Quinn tangled her fingers in Santana's hair and whimpered as she pulled herself closer into Santana's body, feeling the dildo slightly bend against center. Santana reached up and carefully removed Quinn's eyewear, tossing them next to the handcuffs.

"You know you're going to fuck me with those boots on, right?" Quinn nearly moaned as she stared at Santana's full lips.

"You know you're going to leave on those fuck me heels while I fuck you, right?" Santana smirked in response.

"Mmmmm, I thought that was a given," came Quinn's retort followed by a searing kiss that nearly knocked both of them over. Tongues danced fiercely in a familiar yet always exhilarating tango. Santana's hands dropped to Quinn's ass, pulling their hips together so Quinn could feel the bulge below the oxford. Of course, Santana could feel it, too, and she gasped as she was reminded of that fact. Santana guided them to the bed, almost bumping into one of the wooden beams scattered throughout the loft. Then, she stopped suddenly, breaking the kiss. She tried to catch her breath before she spoke, never releasing Quinn. The blonde whimpered at the break in contact.

"Get those handcuffs," Santana demanded. Quinn turned to the bed with a smile to retrieve them. Handing them to the brunette, dangling off one finger as she had done before, she ran the other hand over a hard nipple that seemed to want to burst out of Santana's shirt.

Trying to focus, Santana grabbed the handcuffs and Quinn. She backed the blonde against the beam, pinning her with her body and kisses on her neck, down to her collarbone and stopping at a breast to pay homage with her tongue. After sucking and licking on Quinn's perfect nipple, she grabbed both of the blonde's wrists and pinned them above her head against the beam.

"Don't move," Santana ordered between ragged breaths. She handcuffed Quinn's wrists together around the beam so her arms were now pinned above her head, and her body was stretched to show off nearly every muscle, accentuating heaving breasts, and demanding more of strong legs….strong legs in those fucking fantastic heels. Santana stopped to just look. A tongue snuck out to lick a bottom lip as she studied the beautiful woman before her. Seconds past and the only sound was their heavy breathing, hanging between them. Santana was the first to break the building tension and stepped back from the blonde. She grasped either side of the buttons of the oxford and just ripped it open. Buttons flew in all directions, scattering across the hardwood floor.

"Fuck, baby," Quinn said in surprise. Santana growled as she practically lunged at Quinn, attacking a lithe neck with her mouth and massaging both breasts, tweaking hard nipples, eliciting gasps from the blonde. She dropped a hand to slowly drag her short fingernails up and down the inside of a quaking thigh. Bruising started to appear on Quinn's upper chest from Santana's intensive and focused assault—the brunette seemed driven, primal. And, Quinn was completely at her mercy, loving every minute of it.

Santana mumbled into Quinn's neck, with a smirk, "I can smell you, Q." She slid one finger softly through wet folds, just to confirm her assumption.

"Damn, Santana, if you don't fuck me soon…" she trailed off, not able to think any further. She could feel rather than hear Santana's moan into her neck. Then two hands found their way to a firm ass; one hand pulled a leg up to snake around Santana's hip, and the brunette caressed the thigh, calf, down to that shoe.

"In case you were wondering, these shoes," Santana paused when she reached the heel and ran her fingers over it, "are beyond sexy. _You_ are beyond sexy." She leaned in to place a rather chaste kiss (for Santana) on Quinn's bruised lips. Quinn smiled at Santana's sweetness and returned the kiss in earnest.

But, this romantic moment didn't last because neither of them wanted it to continue. They deepened the kiss and returned it to the ravaging pace that got them to the position that they were in now. Santana reached her down between her legs to grab the dildo. She coated it in Quinn's abundant wetness, both moaning in response.

She entered Quinn slowly, allowing them both to adjust. Though it had been awhile, Santana immediately found the pace that Quinn liked—slow and deep with a pause between each roll of her hips.

"God, Santana, I forgot how good you are at this," Quinn moaned out. She tugged her hands against the beam wanting to grip Santana's hair. The clang of the handcuff chain only turned Santana on more. Quinn's struggle only lasted seconds as Santana opened up the blonde's hips a bit more and went deeper, earning a guttural groan from Quinn. Santana kept her pace while lavishing Quinn's breasts—sucking, licking, tweaking, pinching.

"So deep," breathed Quinn, "So good." Santana's only response was a grunt and redoubled efforts. She forgot how much she enjoyed being with Quinn like this, inside her, and now with the added bonus on the other end for her, it just got that much better. Quinn fought to open her eyes so she could see the brunette and what she saw triggered another flood of wetness. Santana was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and the blonde watched a trickle of sweat slowly roll between perfect breasts. Against Santana's light mocha skin, the sweat shimmered, and Quinn was mesmerized. As she followed the sweat down, her attention was caught by the hypnotic roll of Santana's hips—nearly pornographic but sensual. Quinn's trance, however, was short-lived.

Santana shifted her feet (she'll admit to Quinn later that she's going to save those boots for sex because she loved the feel of them while she was fucking Quinn) to get a bit closer and started adding more pressure to her slow, deep strokes while tilting her hips up a bit more. It was a seemingly small adjustment…

"Jesus fucking Christ, Santana!" screamed Quinn.

Santana smiled to herself, _Well, that seemed to work_. Santana picked up the pace a little and released her death grip on Quinn's ass to steady herself on the beam behind the blonde. Quinn's other leg was struggling to stay around Santana's waist with the sweat on Santana's back causing it to slide. So, she put those shoes to good use and drove a heel into Santana's butt cheek to hold her position.

That did it for Santana. "Fuuuuucccck" was all she moaned as she came hard against Quinn but not ceasing her movement for the blonde. She quickly refocused and pumped in and out Quinn, relishing in the sounds that they were making, all wet and friction.

Quinn couldn't hold it any longer, not after Santana came from fucking her; how could she? As her hips bucked up towards Santana, she felt the dildo go a lot deeper than she thought possible, hitting the right spot. The heel dug further into Santana, and Quinn slammed her body against the beam as she came. Wave after wave kept coming as Santana continued to fuck her, never slowing down, never pulling out.

The blonde's eyes shot open as she realized she was on the brink of another one. She looked at Santana, "Baby, don't stop. Don't stop. More." The brunette obliged and continued to work Quinn's next orgasm out of her, despite her body's exhaustion fighting her every step of the way. One forceful thrust of Santana's hips and Quinn came harder than she did before. No words this time, just uncontrollable breathing and inaudible sounds. She was in shock, really—shock from the pleasure, from the sheer intensity of the moment. As she started to come down and Santana released her leg to the floor, a leg on which the blonde could barely stand, Quinn felt small tears drop.

Santana, who was trying to catch her breath and had her head resting on Quinn's shoulder, didn't notice. But, she heard the thump of Quinn's head against the beam, which caused her to look up. Santana was still inside her, and this made the tears fall even more.

"Baby, are you okay?" Santana asked with concern, wiping some tears off of a cheek.

Quinn inhaled before answering, "More than fine. Blissful, really. It was just so…..intense. I don't know how to describe it beyond that."

"You don't have to, sweetheart," Santana said as she cupped a flushed cheek in her hand. The brunette leaned in and softly kissed Quinn as she slowly pulled out. Quinn moaned at the extraction. Santana quickly removed the harness (moaning herself) so she could un-handcuff Quinn and carry her to the bed.

Despite her smaller stature, Santana did just that; she carried a limp and exhausted—and thoroughly fucked—Quinn to the bed, Jimmy Choo's and all. Santana quickly but carefully removed her new boots before she pulled Quinn into her body and softly traced the firm muscles under the soft skin of her back. The silence between them spoke volumes—it was evenings like this where they could reconnect after a long week of work, celebrate accomplishments in their very special way, and simply enjoy each other.

Quinn snuggled into Santana's body further, reaching up to kiss the brunette's neck. "You know we still have late dinner reservations," she quipped.

"You're kidding, right? After that?"

"I'm completely serious. Your celebration isn't over. And, you won't be saying that when I tell you where."

Now giddy, Santana asked, "Oooh, where? Tell me, tell me!"

Quinn giggled at Santana's shift in demeanor—it's like she told 16-year-old Santana that they were going to Breadstix. "Where else would I take my gorgeous girlfriend for a celebration?"

"Babbo? Seriously? You're not fucking with me, right?"

Now fully laughing, Quinn just kissed Santana and patted her stomach.

"Come on, Lopez, help me get these shoes off so I can shower so I can put these shoes back on….for you."

_Fin_.


End file.
